


May You Look Back Unflinching

by Milletrye



Category: Detentionaire (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, also ft a fun cameo at the end, no tws or teen rating this time? incredible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milletrye/pseuds/Milletrye
Summary: The first year of high school is also the most important one, Crow knows. It is the year everyone finds themselves a clique to join; a reputation they'll keep all the way until graduation. And Crow has no desire to be a cliqueless loser for the rest of his high school life, or part of a group at the bottom of the social hierarchy. No, he's planning to join what, to him, is the coolest clique of them all: the Emos. No matter how little an over-excited geek like him fits in with their impeccable style and stoic expressions, hewillget them to accept him, whatever it takes.Pretty quickly, however, Crow realizes that he's in for a lot more than he bargained for. Or is he? Maybe it's time for him to challenge what he thought he knew... and discover what being Emo really is all about.Takes place before the events of the show, but also includes some slight spoilers for season four.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Once Upon a Lunchtime Dreary

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer: Giuseppe/Emo Joe is the only one in his clique who actually has a canon name, so everything else in here is pretty much a headcanon on my part. Still, hope you enjoy; side characters are fun ~

_This is it, Benjamin. This is your big day._

"No", he decided, out loud this time, giving himself a determined stare in the mirror. If he was really going to follow through with this, with this big plan he'd set up for weeks now, he had to cast his first name aside. He couldn't be Benjamin anymore.

No, from this day forward, he would be using his middle name, Crowley. Or Crow, for short. That way, he'd fit right in with the other students everyone called the Emo clique.

Everyone but him, anyway. To Crow, those people were more than that, unable to be summed up in just three letters. They were intriguing, to say the least. Mysterious. Unapproachable.

Which was kind of a problem now that he really needed to talk to them.

Crow looked himself over in the mirror again, making sure everything was ready for his plan. Today at lunch, he'd sit down at the Emos' table, and hopefully - _no, definitely_ , he told himself -, he'd convince them that he was the perfect addition to their group. With all of them still in early ninth grade, and kind of new to high school and all, the cliques weren't as set in stone as they would be just a few months from now. Once this initial trial period was over, everyone would be stuck with a reputation that wouldn't leave them until they graduated; Crow had learned that much from a ton of shows and movies throughout his life.

And he wasn't going to be a cliqueless loser by the time the first dance came around, or stuck in a group that wasn't bad in itself but still at the total bottom of the social hierarchy. No, if this was gonna define him for the rest of his high school years, he had to get it exactly right. He had to be with the people he'd otherwise be forced to marvel at from a distance forever.

He, Benjamin Crowley Poe, had to join the Emos.

On any other occasion, of course, they wouldn't have taken him seriously. More often than not, he had trouble keeping his positive feelings inside himself, and he generally looked far too adorable and non-threatening to even last a minute among that clique.

But that was why he'd been practicing his apathetic glares for weeks now, spending hours at a time in the bathroom just to get it right. And since today was the day he'd put it all to good use, he'd occupied the bathroom for the better part of the morning to get the aesthetic down properly.

He hadn't done such a bad job, he thought: With his naturally black hair and paleish skin, all he'd had to do in that regard was put on some eyeliner, as well as contacts that turned his pale blue eyes into a far more fitting black. And while he knew that the other Emos all had impeccable hair, Crow was also aware that he'd never be able to replicate that himself. So instead, he'd made sure that the mess on his head vaguely looked like a crow in mid-flight, which was hopefully a cool enough parallel to his name to make up for his lack of actual style.

Styling his hair wasn't the only problem, after all. The other one was that the other male Emos had those really intriguing jackets to match the rest of their immaculate looks, and Crow had nothing to compare to that, really. With most of his wardrobe consisting of totally basic t-shirts and the occasional _Power Rangers_ merch he definitely wasn't gonna wear all openly in high school, a simple gray turtleneck would have to do.

 _But that isn't gonna convince them_ , Crow admitted to himself, and so, he went back to his closet again. He had to find _something_ to make him stand out, to show the Emos that he was serious about joining them.

His eyes settled on a piece of clothing that he'd kind of only gotten himself as a joke on vacation last year, knowing even back then that he wasn't really intending to wear it in public. But its bleak grayish colors were fitting enough, and since he knew that the Emos were into Shakespeare and all, maybe they'd actually appreciate it.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures_ , Crow thought, stuffing the piece into his bag so he could put it on before lunch. His dad called him from downstairs, ready to drive him to school, and with a final deep breath, Crow left his room. _And if determining the fate of your entire high school future isn't a desperate time, I don't know what is._

* * *

His outfit wasn't the only thing Crow had planned in advance. He had also chosen this particular day for a reason: With his first two classes being spares - one by default and one by the teacher calling in sick the day before -, all he had to get through before lunch was gym class. In other words, nobody was really going to see him in his new aesthetic until the Emos had let him join their group. So if things went awry - _which they won't_ , he thought, determined to convince himself of that -, he wasn't going to be making that much of a fool of himself. Except that he'd definitely _feel_ like a fool if he didn't manage to get into the one clique he actually cared about joining.

 _I just have to get them to accept me_ , he knew. _Simple as that._

Though as he entered the cafeteria, got himself his pasta, and headed towards the Emos' table, it occurred to him again that it really wasn't going to be all that simple.

Like - he was pretty sure - just about everyone else at the school, Crow didn't actually know all that much about the Emos. A lot of the cliques that had already formed were keeping to themselves, but these three students were on an entirely different level. They didn't just not interact with other people, they were actually being _avoided_. They were intriguing just by existing, silent and untouchable and just so incredibly _cool_ , and Crow wanted nothing more than to be as amazing as that.

But of course, their aura alone made him walk more slowly, and he couldn't quite hide the nervousness and excitement sneaking onto his forcibly apathetic face, especially once he realized the Emos had noticed him by now. One of them - the boy that towered over the rest of his clique, with a buttoned-up green jacket and a hat that basically made him the embodiment of being impossibly classy - had his back to him, thankfully, but the other two didn't.

The one with the reddish-purple jacket was Joe, their leader, Crow knew as much. But that was about all he _did_ know, because the last member of the clique so far was the girl. Crow had never seen her with anything else than a death glare in her eyes, easily making her the most intimidating person among the three, if not at this entire school. Of course he'd been hesitant to find out stuff about her with an unspoken threat on display like that.

The girl was shooting him that unnerving look right now as well, actually, immediately making him second-guess whether this really was such a good idea. She could totally end him if he got onto her bad side. All of the Emos could, probably.

Crow couldn't let any of that stop him though. He _had_ to do this. His entire high school future depended on it.

With one final attempt to make his face look as apathetic as those of his future cliquemates, Crow sat down on the empty spot next to the tall guy, accidentally brushing slightly against the sleeve of the other's jacket as he did.

"Sorry!", he quickly apologized, belatedly noticing that his emotionless demeanor was already gone again. But the guy next to him didn't react anyway, he only tensed up and stared ahead as if he was somewhere else with his thoughts entirely.

Crow was just about to comment on that when a voice stopped him, deep and entirely toneless except for a hint of annoyance. He shivered a little immediately. "Would you mind telling us why you came to this table?", Joe asked, with a split-second glance at his taller cliquemate. Was that concern Crow saw in his expression there? He wasn't sure; after all, the Emos were known for their all-time stoic expressions, right? They were too cool for anything more empathetic than that.

Crow could guess that they wouldn't appreciate him pointing it out, however, so instead, he pushed that topic aside and took another deep breath. "I want to join your clique", he said.

"Really", the girl replied after several seconds of silence, raising the one eyebrow Crow could actually see with all that hair falling over half her face. Unlike Joe, she made her emotions obvious enough; the one kind of expression the Emos actually displayed sometimes: irritation. "You."

"Yeah, me", Crow repeated, hating how he sounded the opposite of confident right now. Worse, he couldn't help cracking a cautiously optimistic smile. "I mean, a lot of the cliques have four members, right? And you guys are just so… so _amazing_ , with your style and your aura and everything. The popular kids have nothing on you, so that's why I want to be just like that. I already put on the make-up, and the right clothes, and -"

"You're wearing a skirt", the girl cut him off, and even though it had been a conscious - if desperate - decision, Crow felt his face turning red.

"It's a kilt", he explained, his voice getting a little faster because of how nervous he was. "You know, like they wear in Scotland? My ancestors are from there, so I guess I'm kind of trying to channel my inner Macbeth."

He shoved some of the cafeteria pasta into his mouth to stop himself from rambling, and Joe and the girl exchanged a glance. Then, they turned back to him, watching him intently as Joe said something in his weirdly monotonous voice. " _Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more._ "

Crow's smile widened a little; he couldn't help it. After he'd swallowed down his food, he replied, " _It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing._ _Macbeth_ , act five, scene five."

"At least you've got _that_ right", the girl commented, and Crow could swear she sounded at least slightly impressed. She seemed a little more relaxed as well now, both she and Joe had gone back to eating their own pasta as the conversation continued. "What's your name?"

 _Crowley_ , he wanted to say, _or just Crow_. But someone else was faster.

"Benjamin Crowley Poe." Crow closed his mouth again, staring at the taller boy next to him who, for the first time, had just spoken up. He didn't seem as stiff as before anymore, and Crow supposed that he probably just didn't like being touched. Weirdly enough, he noticed now, this guy also wasn't eating pasta like the others, but a brownish sludge Crow would have written off as disgusting if he hadn't recognized it as typical British porridge. The boy seemed to have brought it with him from home instead of getting it at the cafeteria, and his voice, too, carried the hint of one of those stereotypically British accents from tv. Was it the way he naturally talked or part of his Emo shtick? Crow had no idea, but he _sounded_ authentic. Maybe it was his generally imposing aura and the fact that his voice was somehow even deeper than Joe's, but he really did come across as genuine. No matter how ridiculous it was on paper.

But maybe it was also because he somehow managed to know Crow's full name.

"Just… just Crow, actually", Crow put in after he'd gathered himself. "My first name doesn't really fit." 

Joe and the girl exchanged one of their doubtful glances again, just as if _Benjamin_ was a name that fit him just fine. Which was true, probably, but only for his harmless former self. Not for who he was planning to be from here on. He just had to convince them of that.

"Besides, _Crow_ rhymes with _Joe_ , doesn't it?"

This time, the boy in question didn't look at his friend before he replied. "It's Giuseppe", he said, his tone very well fitting what he said next. "Giuseppe Stern."

"Oh", Crow managed, really hoping that he hadn't offended the other boy. Even if the same had happened with his own name just moments ago, he wasn't sure if Joe - well, Giuseppe, but he'd definitely keep calling him Joe inside his head - was going to take it as lightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to - I thought because everyone else is calling you Joe -"

"Don't follow the masses like a sheep", the girl told him. "Be an independent wolf instead."

Crow eased up a little again. "Shakespeare?"

"No", she said, to his amazement flashing the hint of a smile. "Me." After a pause, she added, "Winter Woods."

"Huh?"

Her smile was gone again, and instead, she rolled her eyes. "My name."

"Oh", Crow said for the second time in moments, feeling awkward again. "Is that, like, a pen name for your writing?"

"No, you can completely blame my parents on that one", Winter replied, and he couldn't quite tell who she was more annoyed by - him or her parents. "Almost, anyway. _They_ called me Summer. But don't even think about using that name."

She gave him another one of her death glares when she said that, perfectly visualizing how _Summer_ really didn't fit her demeanor at all. "Not planning to", Crow assured her, then looked at the guy sitting next to him again. He had remained mostly quiet so far, but if anything, that only made him _more_ intriguing. "What about you?", Crow asked him.

The other guy turned his head towards him as well, but as Crow looked at his face - impossibly pale skin, perfectly chiseled jawline, dark brownish eyes where he had no idea if that was their actual color or not -, he found that the other's gaze seemed to go right through him. "Dean Alastair Clark", the boy said in that strangely British accent of his. "My preferred name is Alastair, but I have begun to notice that most people our age have trouble taking such a rather old-fashioned name seriously. Therefore, unless you really believe you can use that name with full conviction, I would suggest you save us the exasperation and just call me Dean instead."

"We do that as well", Joe admitted. "So don't feel pressured to try otherwise just because of your desire to 'fit in'. Which, in all honesty, is a fruitless effort anyway."

Crow was hardly paying attention to his words, too fascinated by the complete strangeness that was this Dean guy. With his deep voice and his accent and his generally odd way of talking, he really didn't seem like a kid their age at all. Or even like a person from this general century. But at the same time… he wasn't ridiculous or anything, or as painful to watch as Crow would have been if he had attempted to pull off such an old-fashioned vibe. No, Dean seemed entirely genuine about it all, not as if he was trying to put on an act. It was, apparently, just the way he was.

Then, however, Crow did register Joe's words eventually, especially the last couple of them. "...so you're not letting me join your group?", he managed, determined not to show them how desperately he wanted - no, _needed_ \- to be with them. "I have what it takes to be Emo, I promise!"

"I didn't say that", Joe calmly informed him, poking around his pasta with his fork without taking his eyes off him. "What I meant is that you shouldn't change who you are just to impress someone else." He glanced to Winter another time, as if making sure she was okay with his words, and when she didn't look any more grim than usual, he continued. "So if finding your place in this school's social hierarchy is your only reason for being here, then we must ask you to leave. After all, our group isn't merely a matter of circumstance or of sharing a particular interest. More than anything, being Emo is a way of life."

"For what it is worth", Dean added, "It does not exactly entail being as miserable as society often perceives Emos as, even if some of us do follow that general direction." Winter nodded at that, Crow noticed, and he remembered the look Joe had given her moments ago. It really wasn't that hard to imagine her having some rather dark outlooks on life, especially with that death glare of hers.

"Then what _is_ it about?", Crow asked. Maybe he still had a chance to turn things around after all.

It was Joe who answered him. "Telling you would be against the point. But there _is_ a way to show you." He looked at Dean as he said his next few words. "We could arrange a meeting with Andrew."

Dean's expression didn't reveal his thoughts, and he didn't say anything in return either, so Crow awkwardly broke the silence. "Uh, who's Andrew? That other Emo guy from one of the higher grades?"

"That's Ezekiel", Winter pointed out, though she dropped the topic immediately. "But yeah, Andrew would totally be able to help us figure out if you're worth keeping around or not. _I'm_ pretty sure you're not, but if the guys want to give you a chance, then I'd say we take this to Andrew."

She, too, turned to Dean now, and eventually, the tallest member of the Emo clique spoke up at last. "If you must", he said in his impossibly old-fashioned voice. "I do suppose his reaction to Mr Poe will at least be interesting."

Crow couldn't say he liked that tone, that last part that almost sounded like a threat, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly cop out now. "I'm in", he said, even though he still had no idea what was going on. "What do I have to do?"

"Meet up with us after school", Winter merely stated. "Or are you busy this afternoon?"

"I, uh - no. Not really. Ready when you guys are."

Joe nodded. "Very well. Meet us by the main entrance after seventh period."

With that - and without any kind of obvious signal -, he, Winter, and Dean all rose from their seats in unison, heading off to return their trays that were all empty by now. Joe and Winter did, anyway; Dean was probably just accompanying them for the aesthetic.

Crow didn't do anything like that. He didn't want to ruin the moment, the perfect aura of untouchability Joe and the others were displaying again. All he did was stare after them, all the way until they were out of sight.

 _By tomorrow, I'll be one of them_ , he thought, his heart racing full of excitement at the prospect. But it only took a few seconds until it all shifted into nervousness; into the realization that he had no idea what was awaiting him this afternoon. For all he knew, the Emos and especially this Andrew guy were practicing some sort of occult rituals he didn't even want to find out about.

_Provided I make it out of today alive._


	2. Now Is the Winter of Our Discontent (and the Discontent of Our Winter)

Crow decided to keep wearing his kilt for the rest of the day, no matter how awkward he felt doing so. After all, if he was going to be a member of the Emo clique, he had to get used to his new aesthetic.

And so did the other students, of course. Crow could tell that he was attracting attention; that people were commenting on his strange outfit choice. But instead of going back to his typical unremarkable self to escape those talks, he started taking it as a challenge. It was as good an opportunity as any to practice the trademark apathetic look of the Emos.

The last class that day was History, and as much as Crow usually enjoyed that subject, he wasn't really able to focus this time. Joe was in this class with him, sitting just a few tables away, so Crow found it hard to pay attention to Mr Rousseau for once. He couldn't help glancing over to Joe, or thinking about their conversation at lunch or the afternoon to come. Who was this Andrew guy? How would he and the other Emos decide whether Crow was worthy of joining them or not?

There was no way for Crow to answer any of those questions right now, so he was both excited and kind of terrified when the school bell eventually signaled the end of class. He went over to Joe immediately; they were both heading for the main entrance after all.

Joe didn't outwardly react when Crow approached him, and he didn't say anything either as he started walking and Crow fell in right beside him. But Crow just couldn't bring himself to spend the rest of their walk in silence.

"So what do you think about History class?", he asked Joe in a hopefully casual enough way to start the conversation.

Joe didn't turn his head to look at him when he replied. "It depends on the subject for me. But most of the time, I'll admit that I cannot be bothered to memorize just about anything required for a test. Or at least that was the case before I met Dean - he is one of the very few people who can make centuries-old politics interesting."

"Yeah? That's cool", Crow replied, too distracted to come up with anything less lame than that. Now that Dean had been mentioned, he couldn't help but ask, "Does he really have an accent, or is that just another part of his whole 19th Century Gentleman shtick?"

"He is entirely genuine, I can assure you", Joe said, his voice carrying a warning undertone. Crow noticed it, sure enough, but he'd said his next words before he knew it.

"Really? He's choosing porridge over pasta on purpose? Is it allergies or -"

"It is none of your business", Joe interrupted him sharply, and this time, Crow fell silent immediately. Had he just completely ruined his chances with the Emos? But Joe didn't tell him to leave; he still accompanied him to the school's main entrance where Winter and Dean were already waiting for them.

"So he really is serious about all this, huh?", Winter asked, not exactly sounding thrilled. But that was her normal tone, wasn't it? As long as she wasn't obviously mad - which Crow really didn't want to ever witness -, he probably had nothing to worry about.

He nodded, attempting to sound all calm and collected instead of nervous. "Yeah. I am. So when is this Andrew guy going to show up?"

"We will take you to him", Dean explained. "It is only a twenty-minute walk from here."

That was the signal for them to get going, apparently, and with Dean and Joe leading the way, Crow found himself walking right next to Winter. She was smaller than him, he noticed, if only by hardly even an inch, and even though that made her the shortest among the Emos, he knew well enough by now that he shouldn't underestimate her.

_He real name is Summer_ , Crow remembered, and he only narrowly stopped himself from wondering aloud if her hair was actually blonde. He had already come close enough to making Joe angry with him; he really didn't want to mess things up with Winter as well. _But maybe I can get her to give me some hints about what exactly we'll be doing today._ "So when did you guys decide to go Emo?", he asked.

"Middle school", Winter said, and for a moment, Crow thought that was going to be it. But then, she seemed to reconsider, and in the end, spoke up once more. "When the summer sky was darkened by a veil of clouds and fell in a gush of heavy rain, until all that was left was the unforgiving cold of winter."

"Oh", was all he could think of replying. He could guess that she wasn't talking about the actual weather that year and rather speaking in some sort of metaphor, but of course she wouldn't exactly appreciate him asking about its meaning. He'd just have to analyze it later, like one did with any good figure of speech. "And the others?"

"Giuseppe was there to reassemble the double-edged sword that keeps me alive yet also brings me pain beyond imagining", she told him, and just when he was about to admit that he had no idea what _that_ was supposed to mean, she added, "And, well, Dean joined us on the first day of ninth grade. Because he could identify with our way of life, not because he wanted to be 'cool'."

"If that was my only reason, I'd have joined the actual popular clique", Crow couldn't help but defend himself. "I'll show you and this Andrew guy what I'm made of, you'll see."

Winter gave him a look he couldn't read. "Yeah, I guess we will."

After that, she didn't say anything else, and since neither Joe nor Dean were talking either, Crow figured that it was better to stay silent for now. And so he did, tagging along with the other Emos and keeping all his remaining questions and theories to himself. At least the most nagging one - the one about who this Andrew guy was and what made him so special - would be answered in just a few minutes.

Eventually, their walk led them into one of the less busy streets close to the center of town, with all kinds of smaller stores on ground level and apartments on the floors above. Crow was immediately intrigued, and although he supposed they were heading for one of those apartments, he kept glancing into the stores they passed. None of them were particularly fancy; they mostly just came down to takeouts and small clothing outlets that didn't sell anything even close to the Emo aesthetic. But still, Dean ended up stopping in front of one of those stores, not by one of the doors leading up to the apartments.

This store was different from the other ones though, Crow noticed. It didn't seem to be open - the door and all the windows were covered from the inside by blinds, and a quick look at the sign with the opening hours confirmed that it had closed a few hours ago. Since they were already standing right in front of the place, however, Crow couldn't actually see the main sign, the one that would have told him what kind of store this was to begin with.

Then, to his amazement, Dean pulled out a key from somewhere inside his jacket and unlocked the door that creaked when he opened it. He stepped inside the building, flipped a light switch that must have been somewhere by the entrance, and turned back around, looking straight down at Crow as he raised his unsettlingly deep voice.

"After you, Mr Poe."

Crow couldn't help but gulp at those words, something he was pretty sure the others could see. But he forced himself to nod, and then, hoping that he looked at least somewhat confident, he followed Dean inside.

He gasped as soon as he saw what exact type of store this was. On second thought, this place was much bigger than he'd expected from outside, although it was actually kind of hard to judge because of how crammed it all was. As far as he could tell, it was just one big room, but with the many shelves and other objects placed all around the area, it definitely felt like an entire building all by itself. It almost could've been somebody's home, even; with the bookshelves and the paintings on the walls and the various kinds of furniture. Not just tables and couches and armchairs, but lamps as well as clocks and silverware and stuff Crow didn't even know how to name. What it all had in common, though, was that everything in this place looked at least several decades old, with some stuff definitely passing a whole century or two. This was an antiques store, obviously enough.

And Dean had the keys to the place.

"Wow", Crow gasped, unable to say anything more eloquent than that. He couldn't decide what part of the store to look at, either; there was just so much to take in that they probably could've left him in here all night and he still wouldn't have gotten enough of it all. Wide-eyed, he turned around in a circle, marveling at everything he could see from his spot without actually touching anything. Even he knew that he wasn't supposed to disrupt this place's aura like that.

Eventually, though, he noticed Joe and Winter entering the store as well now, and the sound of Dean shutting and locking the door again behind them made him snap out of his astonished trance. "This place is amazing", he managed, turning to Dean. "How do you have -"

"It's a good sign that you like it here", Joe put in. "We all do. You may consider it a not so straightforward condition for joining us."

_I'm winning them over_ , Crow realized, more of his excitement leaking into his expression and tone. "Can I look around? Without touching anything, of course."

"By all means", Dean agreed, so Crow did just that, exploring the smallish paths between all the objects this store had to offer. Dean stayed by his side, probably making sure he didn't actually create a mess… and as nearly soundless as the tall boy's footsteps were, Crow wasn't as creeped out as he usually would've been. This place and its atmosphere alone were enough to keep him relaxed.

He had just discovered what he supposed was the checkout, with a tall portrait on the wall behind it that he was about to take a closer look at, when Dean spoke up again.

"To answer your question", he said. "This is _Clark & Son Antiques_. The family business, so to speak."

"Oh! That makes sense", Crow replied, his eyes trailing back to the portrait on the wall. It was a painting of a man in at least his seventies, all wrinkles and sunken cheeks and everything. He was bald as well, except for a few inches of grayish black hair on the back of his head, and his entire posture and expression were those of some old British nobleman. His clothes looked just like that - dark gray coat and an ascot tucked under his lighter gray shirt -, and with the cold, judging gaze of his startling green eyes, Crow could almost believe that this painting alone was enough to ward off anyone so much as thinking about stealing something from the store.

What Crow found even more fascinating, however, was that the jawline and nose, and even the general expression and aura, of the man were pretty familiar to him at this point. He shot another glance at Dean, and yeah, it was easy enough for him to guess who the man on the portrait was.

"Is that your grandfather?", he asked, in response to which Dean gave him a brief nod.

"Yes. He was the one who founded this store, and the one who ran it until my father took over. His name is Andrew Clark."

Crow froze. "Andrew?", he echoed, and he was sure Dean could hear the sudden horror in his voice. He glanced back to the portrait, and suddenly, those piercing green eyes seemed even more intimidating. As if they were staring right into his soul.

"Ah, Dean is introducing you, I see." Winter walked over to them with Joe by her side, giving the portrait an entirely unbothered glare of her own before she looked at Crow. If he hadn't known any better regarding how stoic the Emos always were, he could have sworn that she sounded amused. "Not who you expected?"

"Um -" Crow swallowed, then forced himself to focus his attention on her. No matter how much he could feel Mr Clark's eyes on him anyway. As if the man was watching him…

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind, one that was both terrifying and kind of exciting. But definitely more of the former.

"We… aren't here to meet a ghost, right?"

"Who knows?", Winter asked him in return, still awfully unfazed.

Dean, however, gave her an almost irritated look. "I can assure both of you that my grandfather is very much alive. You can convince yourselves of that shortly; he should arrive a few minutes from now."

"What?", Crow blurted out as another chill ran down his spine. But to his suprise - and shock, really -, even Joe seemed kind of terrified for a moment until he'd gathered himself again. It was pretty amazing, honestly, how his face could go from obvious horror to complete apathy in less than a second, but his voice, at least, hadn't quite returned to normal yet.

"Andrew is actually coming to the store today?", he asked Dean.

The taller boy raised his eyebrows in what Crow could only call honest confusion. "You weren't aware of that?"

"No", Winter admitted. She also sounded just a little less collected than what was normal for her. "I'm pretty sure Giuseppe and I were really only talking about the portrait, and about the store in general. That'd definitely have been enough for us to judge if the newbie here can keep up. But actually meeting Andrew? That's on a whole other level."

"He won't be able to handle it", Joe added. "I barely did when I first met him."

"You wet your pants", Winter pointed out all matter-of-factly, but Joe only frowned at her in return.

Dean narrowed his eyes at both of them. "If you hadn't intended your words to be taken a certain way, perhaps you should have paid more attention to the ambiguity of your phrasing", he stated bluntly, the irritation back in his voice. That alone made Crow shiver; Dean definitely wasn't someone he wanted to get on the bad side of. "You of all people should know that, Giuseppe."

Joe turned his frown in Dean's direction now; less frustrated this time and more apologetic. "I'm sorry", he said, with a slight undertone that actually sounded genuine. "But really, Dean, I don't think this is a good idea. We should leave while we still can, before -"

"Before my grandfather does what, exactly? Is there an opinion of yours I should know about?"

"Guys, please", Crow put in. He really didn't want them to argue, especially not because of something that was more or less his own fault. He was the reason they were here right now, after all. "I know it sucks that there's been a misunderstanding, but I'm sure we can work it out. And this Andrew guy can't actually be that bad, can he?"

In the awkward silence that followed, Crow and the others were all able to hear a sudden noise. Someone, from the outside, was opening the store's creaky old door.

"I think you're about to find out", Winter said.


	3. The Walking Shadow, the Poor Player

Between the four of them, Dean was the fastest to react. "Wait here", he instructed the others, then walked off into the direction of the entrance again.

Winter and Joe exchanged a glance, but neither of them followed him, so Crow stayed where he was as well. Before long, he heard voices; both of them with that strange British accent and one significantly older than the other. Yeah, Dean's voice was deep already, but this… while it wasn't exactly _deeper_ , it was still infinitely more unsettling to listen to. Especially since it matched the already terrifying man on the portrait so well.

"Alastair", it said, somehow managing to sound both affectionate and disgruntled at the same time. _Only use that name if you think you can pull it off_ , Crow remembered, gulping. Andrew - well, Mr Clark, really, _he_ wasn't going to use this guy's first name for sure - definitely _could_ pull it off. "As delighted as I am to see you, you certainly recall I am not particularly fond of surprises."

"Good afternoon, Grandfather. Yes, of course I remember that." Dean sounded like his usual stoic self as well, which made everything extra weird. Crow's relationship with his own grandfather was nowhere as formal… but then again, maybe the other boy's family was just kind of strange about everything it was doing. "I apologize for this unscheduled visit", Dean continued. "My friends and I came to the store today because one of our classmates wished to meet you."

"Is that so?", Mr Clark replied, obvious interest suddenly in his voice. "Very well. You may lead me to them."

 _That's not exactly why I'm here_ , Crow thought anxiously, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. If even Joe had wet his pants meeting Dean's grandfather, he really didn't want to know what _his_ reaction was going to be.

But as with many things that had already happened today, he couldn't exactly cop out now.

" _Something wicked this way comes_ ", Winter muttered beside him, and then, there he was.

The very man from the portrait, with the same dark coat and ascot and the same grisly scowl. Despite his age, he was still pretty tall, looming over everyone else but Dean. One of his jarringly bony hands was clutching a cane, an object that looked like a priceless antique itself with how well it had been crafted - its pommel in particular, carved into the shape of a feline's head, green gemstone eyes glinting as eerily as the man's own. It was a black panther, if Crow had to guess, and it was the animal that came to his mind regarding Dean's grandfather as well. Age might have taken its toll on him, yes, but he still stood proudly and almost without a slouch, carrying the undisputable authority of the creature at the very top of the food chain.

Suddenly Crow was really reconsidering naming himself after a bird.

"Mr Clark." Joe was the first among them to speak up, and although he hid it well, there was still an ever so slight hint of nervousness in his voice. "It's good to see you."

The man dismissed those words with a wave of his unoccupied hand. "Mr Stern", he said, nodding at him and Winter briefly. "Miss Woods." Then, his eyes settled on Crow, who forced himself to return the gaze. There was a strange depth to the man's green eyes, not just hauntingly intense, but also carrying… sadness, in a way. It made Crow wonder if Mr Clark had always been this sullen, or if something had happened that had only made him become like this sometime down the line.

But before he could dwell on that further, the man spoke up again. "Mr Poe."

Crow gasped. Dean hadn't told his grandfather his name, had he? No, the other boy hadn't mentioned anything of the sort, Crow was sure of that. "How do you -"

"I was expecting you", Mr Clark cut him off, his voice low and bitter. "Eventually."

That didn't resolve Crow's confusion in the slightest. _Maybe he does have some sort of power_ , he thought. _Foresight, maybe? And he turned out so grim because he keeps seeing all those terrible things about to happen._

"What else do you know about me?", he brought himself to ask. "Can you… can you see my future as well?"

Mr Clark raised what little he had left of his eyebrows at him, as if he couldn't quite make out if Crow was being serious or not. But he didn't seem to find the question ridiculous… if anything, Crow thought he saw something like hope flickering in the old man's eyes. "No", he said slowly, like every one of his words carried meaning beyond imagining. "But there are other things I've seen."

Before Crow could react, Dean spoke up. "Grandfather, I don't believe it is wise to trouble him with such topics."

The man grimaced. "If anyone had ever believed me, Alastair, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now." Briefly, he pointed his cane at Joe, who flinched at the impact that didn't actually come. "Can you do me the favor of telling your friend how I happen to know his name?"

Joe needed a moment before he managed a response. "Because he looks just like his grandfather, who used to be one of your high school classmates? The way my grandfather was?"

Mr Clark scoffed. "So to speak." He focused his attention back on Crow. "I knew Ernest quite well, actually. And earnest he was, always wearing his heart on his sleeve… exhausting at times, yes, but in his own strange way, he managed to bring out the best in people. No doubt you share those qualities with him."

"I, uh... thanks?" Crow, admittedly, had no idea what to say. Was Dean's grandfather complimenting him, or was there something else he was supposed to read into his words? "I can tell him you said hi, if you want."

"Ah, so he is still around", Mr Clark mused. "Good for him. Although I assume that he, like the vile rest of them, has been quite happy to have been spared my company in the past two decades."

 _The past two decades?_ , Crow wondered, intrigued. _That's way after his high school days._ "What happened two decades ago?", he asked.

The man hesitated for quite a while, making Crow reconsider whether he really wanted to know the answer. But eventually, Mr Clark spoke again. "Your little school is not as innocent as it seems", he said, even more bitter than before. "There are events afoot that certain people would rather have us all live in ignorance of." His grasp around his cane tightened, to the point where his fingers were shaking from the stress. "I was among the few who became aware of those events. Not of the details, but their existence as a whole. And I tried telling my former classmates, tried warning them - but those ignorant fools dismissed it all as the ramblings of a delusional fiend. And the few that didn't… they were hunted down by the powers that be, their minds warped into forgetting everything I had told them. When I attempted to speak with them again, it was as if our previous conversations had never happened at all."

"Grandfather", Dean began in that slightly irritated tone Crow had heard from him before. Clearly, even he wasn't thinking too highly of what the man was telling them right now, as intrigued as Crow was by all of it. But Mr Clark only shot him an indignant look.

"You may not believe me, Alastair. But I would rather have your little friend make up his own mind. Thoughts are a precious thing to keep control of these days."

 _Not another argument_ , Crow thought, and with no idea where he got that sudden burst of courage from, he offered, "Maybe he'd believe you if you were more specific? About the, uh. Events you mentioned."

Mr Clark gave him a look that didn't terrify him as much as it probably should have. Maybe because, Crow noticed, there was something like a deep, dark sorrow lingering in those eyes. "No. I'm sorry, but that is something I cannot risk. I may not know a lot about what is going on… but even the little knowledge I do have is too dangerous to pass on."

"Then how could you have hoped for anyone to believe you?", Winter put in, sounding less sympathetic and more fed up by this conversation. Just like Dean, apparently. She and Joe had been weirdly quiet this whole talk so far, which was kind of surprising, honestly. Were they really that intimidated by Mr Clark, even more so than Crow?

Dean's grandfather turned to face her, which indeed made her look a bit less confident again. "I _did_ tell them everything I knew, Miss Woods. But with that came our undoing. Theirs, as their memories were quite literally undone; mine, as I struggled to fathom the cruelty of the cosmos as it kept taking everything from me… and, more than anything, the undoing of the very last person I told about it all. The exact reason I have not shared the details with anyone since." His eyes went back to his grandson, and for one brief moment, they revealed just how deeply he cared about Dean. "He was the one person they never robbed of his knowledge. You know why? He died before they had the chance. He _died_ , hours after I had convinced him of what I'd learned. Call it a coincidence if you so desire, but I for one have long stopped believing in those."

"Something like that is not going to happen to me", Dean insisted, still not sounding particularly convinced of the truth in his grandfather's words. "To any of us."

"And what makes you so sure?", Mr Clark replied grimly as he clutched his cane with both of his hands. "Believe me, boy, we are nothing but pawns in this game forces beyond our control are playing. And I am the fool, the punchline of a cosmic joke fate is telling us all."

Those words hung in the air for what seemed like forever; Dean, Joe, and Winter still looking like Mr Clark had gone some sort of mad, no matter how well they hid it. Crow, however, couldn't bring himself to think that way - was Dean's grandfather still intimidating, still unsettling to be in the mere presence of? Totally. But he couldn't just ignore the urgency in the old man's voice, in his eyes that were full of desperation if one found the courage to look beyond the piercing glares.

"That must be awful", Crow said eventually. Did he believe what Mr Clark was telling them? He wasn't sure; it was absolutely possible Dean's grandfather had exaggerated at least some aspects of it. But Crow wasn't in the position to judge, and rejecting everything the man was saying wasn't the answer, he knew. "It's amazing that you manage to live with it so well."

Mr Clark gave him a thoughtful look. "I do what I must. And perhaps I would indeed have crumbled beneath it all, had it not been for a particular someone to enter my life in those darkest of days. It is the person I owe whatever remains of my sanity to, as he was there to keep me company during those cruel times. An outcast such as I, in this vile, twisted world." His gaze wandered to Dean, a genuine fondness in his eyes once more. "You may recall me mentioning him before; after all, you were named after him, Alastair. At least by means of a near-perfect anagram."

Dean's unimpressed look didn't waver. "Ištaran, yes. I do remember that name. Not much else, of course, given how despite his apparent relevance to our family, you have never actually introduced me to him."

"You know the reason for that as well", his grandfather replied with mild irritation. "He prefers not to reveal himself to any more people than strictly necessary."

"I was _named_ after him", Dean argued. "What reason does he have for avoiding me, other than being a figment of your imagination like everything else you've been talking about?"

In an instant, any kinds of positive emotion in Mr Clark's expression were gone, and instead, he was regarding Dean with a glare that put even Winter's to shame. "Perhaps", he said, his voice terrifyingly quiet and not just containing anger, but also something like genuine hurt that broke Crow's heart to hear. "It is disrespectful behavior just like that, Alastair."

There was another uneasy silence after those words, the only reaction being the nervous expressions none of the Emos bothered to hide this time. Even Dean seemed affected, at the same time visibly unsure about what to reply. What _could_ he reply, after a misstep like that?

Only one thing mattered right now, Crow realized. Only one thing that would be able to reassure Dean's grandfather after all of this.

"I believe you, Mr Clark", Crow said, looking first at him and then over to Dean. "Even if I don't know if any of what you're saying is true, you couldn't make up all of your emotions. They're always there, in the end, even if you try covering them up, and that's enough to convince me that you can't be all that wrong."

As he said those words, he couldn't help thinking back to his earlier conversations with the Emos - the things Winter had told him about her past, Joe's strange concern regarding Dean, and even the tall boy's remark that Joe was supposed to know certain things about him. And that was when Crow realized something.

"That's what all of this is about, isn't it? Being Emo, I mean. It's not about being miserable, or edgy, or super negative all the time. But it's not about being completely devoid of emotions either. It's about having experienced awful stuff and not letting it get to you. Internally and - well, mostly outwardly, I suppose."

"Well said", Mr Clark replied after they had all taken a moment to let those words sink in. "As little as I see a point in labels such as this 'Emo' thing you go by; in the end, these are indeed the values I follow." He turned back to Dean. "You should take his words as a reminder as well. A Poe such as him may not be as naturally intriguing as you are, but as I said, they have their hearts in the right place. You chose well making him part of your group."

Crow waited for one of the others to point out that he wasn't actually one of them just yet, but they didn't. Instead, Dean nodded, with a look at his grandfather that really did seem like he meant what he said. "I am sorry for what I accused you of earlier, Grandfather. I may not be entirely convinced - or satisfied - regarding the things you say, but that does not mean that I should have lashed out at you for them. My classmate is right, I should at the very least be more respectful of your emotions. My apologies."

Mr Clark regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded as well. "Very true. The youth is disrespecting the elderly enough as is these days." Despite his grim tone, Crow caught the flicker of fondness in his eyes again, and he knew the man had forgiven his grandson this time. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have important business to prepare for. Ištaran will be visiting shortly, and it is my duty as the host to adequately prepare the food and beverages, you understand."

"Then maybe we could stay around for a bit?", Crow asked. "So we can -"

"No", Dean cut him off. "If my grandfather's acquaintance insists to be left alone, we should respect his wishes. You have vouched for as much yourself."

"Thank you, Alastair", Mr Clark said, letting his gaze wander. "And farewell for now, all of you. May the universe treat you kindly."

With that, the old man walked off again, his footsteps nearly silent apart from the soft clicks of his cane whenever it touched the ground. He headed right for a door that Crow assumed led to the back of the store, and he and the other Emos watched him until he had disappeared.

For several seconds after that, they all remained quiet, but as Crow looked away from the door and back at the others, he noticed the relief in Joe and Winter's eyes, the tension that visibly left their bodies now that they were by themselves again. Then, the two of them and Dean exchanged glances, eventually ending with ever so subtle nods. And a slightly less terrifying version of her usual death glare, on Winter's side. "That's what we came here for, didn't we?", she asked. "If Andrew himself says we'd do well accepting this kid, I guess we don't have much of a choice."

Joe nodded once more, less subtly this time. "It can't hurt to occasionally remind ourselves of our rarely surfacing emotions, I suppose", he said, just like Winter avoiding any less flattering talks about Mr Clark. The man may have disappeared into another room, but Crow could imagine well enough what his reaction would be if he overheard such conversations. Then, he noticed Joe had turned to him now, and he braced himself for whatever he had to say. "Regarding what you mentioned earlier - it is true, we do follow a certain creed."

Dean spoke up next; his oh so deep voice sounding solemn. And kind of proud, in a way. " _When the abyss looks into you..._ ", he began, after which Winter took over.

" _... - and it will - …_ "

" _...may you look back unflinching_ ", Joe finished in the same meaningful tone. All three of them were looking at Crow now, and for a moment, he was basking in the fact that it sounded like they were going to let him join their group after all. But they didn't say anything else, and the silence was beginning to make him feel kind of awkward. Was there something he was supposed to say in return?

"I, uh… thanks, guys. I will." He cracked a hopeful smile again. "Does that mean I'm part of your clique now?"

Joe exchanged another look with the others. "Preliminarily", he decided. "We _will_ have to work on that expression of yours."

"And we should leave the store now", Dean reminded them. "I am quite certain neither Grandfather nor his acquaintance would appreciate us overstaying our welcome."

Nobody had any objections to that, so they all headed back through the maze of antiques and out into the light of day, although Crow couldn't help falling behind just a little bit. Just before he reached the door, he turned around one more time, letting his gaze wander across this store so full of wonders he couldn't wait to explore some other day.

Crow allowed his smile to widen into a grin, no matter what the others were going to think of him. He left the store again, only turning his head back forward at the very last second… and bumped right into another person as he did.

"Sorry!", he exclaimed immediately, just as his brain reminded him that the store was, technically, closed right now. But the other person was clearly intending to enter anyway - this had to be Mr Clark's friend, then, didn't it? Ištaran or whatever his name was?

Curiosity taking over him, Crow looked up to see the other man's face, and to his surprise, he almost didn't manage to do so. This guy was _huge_ ; at least another head taller than Dean, with a broad-shouldered frame that made him altogether massive. Just like Mr Clark, he was using a cane, although instead of a stylish coat, there was a black cloak of sorts covering just about his entire body, its long sleeves obscuring his hands and a hood hiding most of his head.

 _Ominous_ , Crow thought, more intrigued than terrified… but that was before he'd caught a glimpse of the other guy's features. Now that his eyes had gone up to the man's face, it looked like he'd just been about to take off his hood when Crow had bumped into him. As a result, his facial features were actually visible now… and they weren't those of an old man like Dean's grandfather. No, this wasn't even a human _skull_ , with its totally reptilian jaws that extended way past the normal capacity and the skin that was all rough and yellow instead of anything human. But the worst part were the eyes; tiny red orbs with slit pupils that were like those of a dragon about to swallow him whole.

The person - no, the _creature_ \- growled something that definitely wasn't a human sound either, but instead of making Crow its next meal, all it did was walk past him without another glance.

This time, Crow didn't linger about any longer. He hurried outside as fast as he could.

"There you are", Winter said once he'd caught up to her and the others, the three of them having moved on to discussing the display of one of the clothing stores down the street. She seemed to have returned to her usual grim tone, with no sign of her possibly being intimidated by anything or anyone. "I thought Andrew decided to get himself crow for dinner after all."

Crow winced; her words making the creature he'd just encountered appear in his mind again. "Did - did you see who just entered the store?", he asked as he looked at Dean, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. "That… that _thing_ wasn't even human, it was some sort of dragon, and now your grandfather's all alone in there with it -"

The others were staring at him sceptically, eyebrows raised in obvious doubt. "A dragon", Winter repeated, and Crow nodded.

"Yeah! Didn't you see its face? Its eyes?"

"This is ridiculous", Dean decided. "While it is true that none of us saw a new person arrive - we were quite busy here, you understand -, I believe we can all agree that whoever entered the store would have to be my grandfather's acquaintance Ištaran. And with all due respect, Mr Poe, I find it highly unlikely that he is some sort of reptilian beast. Those beings do not exist."

"But -", Crow insisted, before he found himself hesitating. Yeah, Mr Clark had expected a visitor, so of course there had to be a connection there. He _had_ to know this creature, which meant it was probably harmless then, right? Or harmless enough for the man to survive those encounters, anyway.

"If you're so eager to go monster hunting, feel free to head back inside", Winter said. "Although I don't know what would be more unfortunate - you turning out to be right and experiencing the wrath of a dragon person, or you interrupting a perfectly fine meeting between two old guys because your eyes were playing some weird tricks on you."

Crow frowned, but he nodded anyway. Neither of those two options sounded particularly tempting. "You're right. Sorry. It was probably just the lighting in there."

"I would assume so", Joe replied. "But regardless of what is true, do remember our creed. _When the abyss looks into you - and it will -, …_ "

" _...may you look back unflinching_ ", Crow finished, forcing himself to relax again. _Whatever you saw, don't let it scare you_ , he told himself to really hammer home what the Emos' words meant. _Face it bravely instead._ He took a deep breath as he made his mental decision. _At least I'll do that inside my head. Before I actually face that thing and it eats me or something._ "Yeah. I should start doing that. Now that I'm part of your clique and all."

"You are indeed", Joe said, once again sounding so apathetic that Crow had no idea how he felt about it all. "For now, anyway. We'll see how long it lasts."

"Remember the last time someone tried warding off a corvid?", Winter asked their clique's leader in what Crow hoped was only mocked annoyance. " _Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door._ "

Crow cracked a smile again. He knew those words, of course he did. It was one of the first poems he had ever memorized in their entirety. " _Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'_ "

Briefly, he expected the others to roll their eyes or otherwise express how much they disliked the implications of those words in the context of their group. But none of them said or did anything in that direction, and Crow didn't need to do a full-on analysis to understand what that meant.

Apparently, they didn't actually dread him as much as they'd made it seem. He really was a member of the Emos now, and from the sound of it, that was going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoyed my take on the Emos, and that Andrew and his... special acquaintance were spooky enough for the occasion.
> 
> Some more background on those two: If you've read my [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420188) on VPV and the stuff MWF is up to, you've probably connected the dots about what exactly it is that's messing Andrew up this badly. I'd like to imagine that the Wursts had some fun messing around with him by only ever brainwashing everyone else into forgetting this stuff, not Andrew himself... and with him not knowing who or what exactly it is that's responsible for all of this, that really wasn't too nice on his sanity. So when the whole thing with Kenneth happened and that affected him even more, His Eminence probably got mad at the Wursts for (indirectly) causing the death of one of their subjects this early into the scheme, which was why he decided to pay Andrew a visit to make sure he didn't end up with a similar fate (in one way or another). Turned out those two got along really well though, so they've basically been pretty chummy ever since. Of course, Andrew has no idea His Eminence - or, well, Ištaran, he's gotta have an actual name after all - is connected to the whole A Nigma stuff in any way... he's in so deep with all of this that a lizardman isn't exactly all that implausible to him at this point. And His Eminence honestly genuinely enjoys having someone around that can sympathize with his whole "last of my kind" backstory, for better or worse.
> 
> It also makes for nice background information regarding some shenanigans that go down in my pitch for season five... let's just say His Eminence disposed some pretty useful stuff at the store that may or may not come in handy. And the Emos as a whole play a big role in that season as well; they haven't had a real focus episode yet after all. Dean in particular has some very fun interactions with Li that I should probably write down at some point :') We'll see.
> 
> Oh, and credit where credit is due: the Emos' creed isn't something they (or I) came up with, it's from the wonderful book _Challenger Deep_ by Neal Shusterman. Definitely something they'd enjoy reading, so I'll dare use this little anachronism and have them, in 2011, dig a book from 2015. Ah well.


End file.
